The line, the line!

I've had some amazing conversations about the line:

1. There is no line! I want to know!
2. I don't know where the line is, but I really hope you cross it. (giggle)
3. Where is loml's line? That's your line.
4. Eh, I'm not sure if you saying too much will bother me.
5. DON'T SAY ANYTHING INAPPROPRIATE EVER.

It's also especially hilarious to me because two of those conversations (numbers 1 and 5) were either preceded or closely followed by my being chastised for writing too cryptically. That no one is ever sure what I'm actually saying. Which, is totally hilarious, at least in five's case - because if you want me to be less cryptic, then I might have to be inappropriate.

My conversation with loml went something like this:

loml: what was so funny last night?
me: i pinched a nerve and didn't say anything so that we could finish.
l: you still can't feel two of your fingers??
m: i can, i woke up and the feeling was back. but, i lost it for hours.
l: HA. I personally thought the abortion role-playing was hilarious.
m: I liked menstrual heaven.

Yes, yes we did abortion role play in bed. And menstrual heaven is heaven where all of the eggs from all of your periods are there to greet you when you die.

LINE CROSSED!

I really, really want to write about inappropriate topics at the moment. I'm flailing about internally trying to figure out where the line is on this blog. Basically at this point, anyone who reads this knows me. And, in a lot of cases, knows loml. That makes talking about sex difficult. Tricky.

But damn! Hilarious stuff happens in bed. And, I've mentioned before, my favorite new addition to loml and I is the time we spend in bed laughing uproariously.

So where is the line readers? Is there a line?

That journal, the unfair portrayal, has been retired. Put to pasture. I know I spoke of it before as a good read..I acknowledged that it was unfairly dire but also a real way to look back and learn from where I was. That is true. And then I had the opposite experience with it - I went back and read it and was that girl again.

I don't know how to explain it other than - I was in an unsettled place at the time and it seeps out of the writing. And the last time I went back and read it all, it stuck to me. The doubt and uncertainty were truly poisonous.

So I've stopped reading and writing. I never wanted to write when I was super happy and the other writing fed off of itself. So there is no balance to it: crazy feeding crazy. And I think writing here will fix that imbalance.

I have a post in mind here, but I'm suddenly sneezy, kind of sore and a bit tired. But I'm going to try for it anyway. Be charitable.

I don't know if it's naive of me, but lately I've been a bit surprised by people's actions. And in some cases, people's reactions. And these are people I would say I know well. I find this surprise, the actions, the whole situation fascinating. And in some ways, a bit disappointing.

I often find myself wanting to be inside someone's head when they make a decision. Throwing a fit for no reason I can understand? Maybe there is something I'm missing. Keeping something secret that doesn't seem secret? Maybe I don't understand you.

A lot has been going on at work lately...and I heard a rumor that someone implied that I don't have all the information to...well...do my job. After laughing a lot about that and deciding this is true of everyone, I moved on. But now, I can't help but think that's why I enjoy people so much. Because of course I don't have all the information. And of course we're going to see things and respond to things and emote differently.

And I love it.

And I hate it.

Today I wonder where empathy went. Did you lose yours?

Cliche alert: you know how people like to say 'it never rains but it pours'?

My dentist gave me his cell phone number.*



*It should be noted that he gave it to me in case I needed him to adjust my bite. I got work on the top and bottom and am so numb I have no idea if my teeth are aligned. He seemed to think so. But, then he gave me his cell and told me to call if I needed him to work on the teeth this weekend.**

**It should also be noted that he then made a remark about how he has no life and I shouldn't feel bad about calling.***

***And finally, it should be noted that I am sure he is not single. And my dating status came up in conversation naturally somehow (although, looking back, that seems suspect too. How does that just come up?). So....he wasn't hitting on me. He was being a good dentist. But it sure makes a better blog post the other way...

Silence is deafening, so I'll go ahead and break it here.

I have nothing public to say about my personal life at the moment...but I observe:

• I should not be left alone with my imagination. To say it's overactive is an understatement. I often long to know what it's like to be empty-headed. It doesn't turn off or slow down. And it's vivid. There is no use and no market for that particular skill unless I can harness it. And so far my only harness has been writing. And if all I can write is self-indulgent bullet points, then really...we're back to no use/no market.
  
• I don't know how to process things when there is another person involved. I don't know how to explain that, but the "free will" part of loml's processing of things is maddening. In other words, I've gotten used to being able to predict things when I'm the only one involved and it's my decision. Mmmmm, tastes selfish.
  
• It is endlessly fascinating to me the different takes people have of the same situation.
  
• It is super cold in this office today.
• There is an icky feeling in my stomach that will not go away.
  
• Feel better loml.

Things I've learned about myself in the past 6 days:

1. I have an underwear addiction. I like it. A lot. Also, if you haven't heard of modal, you are missing out. Softest ever. I just went to find a link to it and Gap has A LOT of new underwear since my shopping spree last week. I am resisting. But, modal.
2. I am a hotel snob.
3. There's a special sort of tired that happens after several days of fitful sleep. It is not safe.

Quick one tonight...

I just wanted to welcome back the ramblings of alex. I've also got my fingers crossed that quodlibets is about to join us again too. Everyone needed time off to refresh.

And speaking of refresh, it's 9:05pm. And I am going to go get in bed. I've been sleeping fitfully the last few days and I feel like a zombie right now. Dead eyes. I have dead eyes.

Bits...

My dear friend in DC asked that I write about her so that she can read about herself at work tomorrow. And so DC, I say: congratulations on your recent nuptials! You were a beautiful bride - your Mom sent me the most amazing picture of you. It is my new favorite picture of you ever. Beautiful.

I hope Costa Rica was great and all, but it was drastically more boring at work without you around to gchat with. Please don't leave me for 3 weeks again.

* * *

I tried yesterday to write about my insecurities. I failed. I think I'm just going to start writing every now and again about something that makes me uncomfortable. When these...uncomfortable sentences happen, if they affect loml, I would like to extend to him complete rein to respond/delete/veto/redact those sentences. Up to you loml.

* * *

Since loml and I were friends for a long time before we were something more, we had a fairly established dynamic. It has been intriguing, fun, hilarious, maddening (and for me, at times a bit rough) to believe that we are a couple and to figure out what that means.

It means a lot of things to me, in ways I expected and ways I didn't. I expected to be challenged - I've been single for a long time. And loml is the kind of person that challenges you whether he's your boy or not. I didn't expect that that challenge is one of my favorite pieces of this (along with the giggling & talking while laying in bed, they tie).

I keep trying to go on here - but that is simply stated what I wanted to say.

* * *

I'm stumbling. I'm tripping over the combined forces of: getting back into the swing of writing and learning how to write about something so personal that involves someone else. I'm afraid I'll cross some line. And he's so curious about what I'll write here that I think he wouldn't tell me about a line even if he had one. Diving in...

Since I stopped blogging back in September of 2008, I started writing in a journal. And, I'm not going to lie, I was very troubled and unhappy about a lot of things at the time. I was angry with myself. I was feeling distant from my friends. And I was frustrated with the loml. The lah-mul. The journal was a vent for all of that. I've spoken about how truly terrible I am about asking people for help, about talking about my "feelings" (not accidental quotation marks)...about being vulnerable. In the journal, I write all of the inanity and insanity that flits through my head. It does not show a pretty picture in some places. In others it's full of giggles and sunshine. But, it really is mostly doom and gloom. When you're unhappy you want to whine about it. When you're happy you just want to live it.

In general, the journal is a really unfair portrayal of the last year. But going back and reading it is powerful; I can see what was behind most of it...and learn from it all in hindsight (hindsight = never good. No one ever is like, in hindsight that was a great decision I made!). But if you're loml? Those pages seem like poison. And he's partly right.

Where is this going? I don't know...

My flaws (and they are varied) come into sharp relief when there's someone else around who they affect. And I've been working on that stupid inability to SPEAK about my "feelings" thing for as long as this blog has existed (it's purpose in life). Hopefully, having loml around will cause me to speed up that damn 'fix the flaw' process that is moving at the speed of a snail. And the ultimate goal: if i speak of the feelings while they're newbs, then they don't grow into CRAZY. I have spouted more crazy in the past few months than I ever have before. Mostly normal crazy, but there was a stunning instance of capital C crazy. Quoting dreaded black journal about that stunning instance:

clearly i lost my mind a little with the phone call

But now, what to do about journaling? Do I continue, so that in 8-10 months I can look back and go: WOW, madness...or, yeah, that point was valid? Or does the blog replace it? I'm thinking blog...

tongue firmly meeting cheek...

During the past year I have, apparently, started to think in cliches (ex 1: title). So the next time I type a generic phrase or cliche, call me on it. Thanks.

I have also obtained a boyfriend. Who knows I'm about to blog about him and asked to see a draft. And also suggested instead of using his name, I call him 'one of the loves of my life'. And so a compromise: he doesn't see a draft, I from now on refer to him as 'love of my life'. How's that for relationship health?

loml. Lah-mul.

Dear loml,

Sucker!

Love,
Boo

No...

Dear loml,

I am probably going to talk about us here. That could kind of suck for you. I was going to try to spin that...it's not really working. I will try to be kind to you. And when your stupid 'slow-burners' (note to world: insults that take a while to reach their full potential) are burning, I'll be sure to tell you that I'm about to tell the world about it.

And in the end, just remember, I'm just adding to the list of reasons to dump me.

Love,
Boo

I'm leaving it at that for now, because I'm butting up against my own line of how much I want to say so publicly. The only ways I can think of to end this are ALL CLICHES. Fin.

Last night I watched the movie Hannah Takes the Stairs. It was passable - not anything to go on about. But I did take a few things from the movie and I'll share one here.

I am incubating a budding obsession with the idea of wearing a long, very thin chain and a locket. Nestled under my shirt. The only issue with this obsession is that I don't like gold and all of the lockets out there are kind of ugly. I want a medium to big one. Preferably in something not gold. Even etsy is sort of...coming up short. This one is OK:

But I really like the idea of having a vintage, real locket. Or at least for the locket to look the part. Like...

I'm still torn on whether or not I like the heart shaped locket. Is it too kitschy? Too cute?

Re-entrance into blogging is going to be rough...

reinstatement?

Not promising anything at all here, except a try.

I want to write again. Hopefully semi-regularly...

Back in 2004, when I started this blog, the grand idea was that I have a place to just write. To "vent, bitch and story-tell". I have often felt that writing about a thing can often make it feel like less of a thing, that the act of writing about a feeling makes that feeling diminish somehow.

And suddenly, here I am, four years later, full. Full of stuff to tell. Because now? I can't here. Because you know me.

My greatest weakness is my inability to let you all in. There are maybe, maybe a handful of people that have seen me cry. Heard me cry. I get upset and I hold it so tightly, because it's my upset, that I end up choking it. Choking on it. Dealing with it completely alone. And right there is the reason I started this blog, to possibly let up a little on my grip. To open up a single inch in hopes that I could do that in real life.

It's not working. It's not working because I don't want to talk about things on here because they involve you. It's not working because the problem is wrapped so tightly in the solution that I will never free either of them. It's not working because I'm so good at being alone that I don't know how not to be.

I'm sitting here, thinking about how this all feels so much like a war with myself - I'm tired of being alone but I'm unable or unwilling or unsomething to reach for someone.

I don't think I can win.

And I think, that maybe, this blog is unable to serve the purpose I once had for it.

Fitness followed shortly by Fudge Stripes...

About 20 minutes ago I thought it was a good idea to open my blinds (it appeared to be getting darker, I wanted to keep an eye on the weather). About ten minutes ago my neighbor caught a good eyeful of me standing in front of the TV in my underwear (I was changing channels). I used to be crazy modest: wouldn't undress in front of my sister/mom modest. Something happened in the last few years and that just leaked away. And now I stand, in front of my ground level windows, in my skivies.

Although, to be fair, the amount and type of skivies I'm currently wearing could be misunderstood as a slutty workout outfit (sport bra and boy shorts). However, I think the guy that caught an eyeful was perplexed and intrigued as I watched his reflection (bouncing off an opposite window) slow down and consider a second pass.

In other news, the wiiFit has empowered me to work out in my skivies. And it's delicious. I wish everyone in the gym would just agree not to look around and we could all wear underwear only. It would be amazing. But that is also horrifying.

And, can I tell you that it makes no sense to me that the male trainer "stood in" for the female on one of my wiiFit yoga poses today? Like the lady trainer was so busy elsewhere in fake gym land. I hate him because of his soothing voice and lame mini ponytail. Who thought, hey, let's make the male trainer have a really stupid ponytail, that'd be manly and hot?